Yan looked at the names etched into the stone wall of Mara, the city that the soldiers had defended with their lives. His jaws were clenched so tight his teeth were about to crack.
"What a damn waste!" He spat out in frustration.
They had won the battle against the Byuwil tribe. Compared to the Byuwil tribe's losses, it had even been an overwhelming victory.
But that didn't change the fact that the soldiers had died for an empty battle.
While the two sides were cleaning up the battlefield, another group had entered the scene.
The Nilma tribe.
Instantly, Yan had been prepared for another fight. It would be difficult against the Nilma tribe alone, and even more so if they joined up with the remnants of the Bywuil tribe, who were familiar with Yan's tactics by now.
But the Nilma tribe came carrying white flags. White flags and a horrible message. Their timing couldn't have been worse.
